Love…and Other Mistakes
by FraidyCat
Summary: The Eppes Boys share more than they think.
1. Chapter 1

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Title: Love…And Other Mistakes≤/p> 

**Author: FraidyCat**

**Summary: The Eppes Boys share more than they think.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.**

**Chapter 1**

Charlie fell out of bed.

Anna leaned up on her elbows and peered over the side, regarded him for a moment. "I may have been a little…athletic."

Charlie sat on the floor and stared up at her. "I resent the implication that you are too…athletic…for me."

She smiled, slowly. It started, as it always did when it was genuine, in her eyes. "Enthusiastic, then."

He shook his head and beads of sweat flew out of his hair. "Still not good. I won't have you disparaging my enthusiasm."

"I'm not. Truly. I'm sure if you had been expecting it…"

A knock sounded at the door.

Anna reached quickly for a sheet. "I thought you said nobody was home!", she hissed.

Charlie shrugged, then stood easily from his position on the floor so that he could join her under the sheet. "There wasn't. Somebody is here now, though."

"No kidding. And they say you're only good with numbers."

Another knock. "Charlie? You in there?"

Anna tried to scoot farther down the bed. "Did you lock the door?"

Charlie stopped her progress with a well-placed hand, then raised his voice over her whisper. "I'm here, Dad. What do you need?"

The doorknob began to turn. "I thought I heard something. You al…is this door locked?"

"Um…yeah. I…went to bed early?"

"Charlie, are you ill? It's only 6 o'clock. Your brother will be here soon for dinner. And you never lock the door."

"Fine, Dad. I'm very well. Thank you."

Anna flopped over onto her stomach so that she could bury her face in the pillow. She was suddenly overtaken with a fit of giggles.

"What was that noise?"

"I…dropped something. S'okay. Everything is good in here."

After a few moments of silence, Alan's tone changed. "Do you think you might be joining us for dinner?"

"Don't think so, Dad. Not…not real hungry, right now." Charlie was close to giggling himself. Or screaming. Wasn't sure which.

There was more silence, but he hadn't heard Alan walk away, so he knew his father was still outside.

"Perhaps your friend is hungry."

Charlie's eyes widened and Anna's burst of laughter wasn't entirely suppressed by the pillow.

"My…my friend?"

"It's only spaghetti, mind you, but I have garlic bread — and a nice cherry pie for dessert."

Charlie knew that he was blushing. If he could decide who to kill first, either his father or Anna would be in danger.

"About that pie, Dad…"

More silence. Then, "You ate the entire pie?"

Charlie's voice squeaked. "Not…not exactly…"

Alan's sigh must have been gargantuan to be heard through the door. "Do I still have ice cream?"

Charlie felt like a child. "Yes, sir."

Alan cleared his throat. "Well. Dinner is at 7, if you and your friend would like to come down."

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A forkful of spaghetti clattered to his plate. Don stared at his father. "What did you say?"

Alan tore at the bread in his hand. "I said, 'Charlie has a girl upstairs'. But that was probably wrong. I should think it was a woman."

"You're kidding."

Alan shook his head, reached for the glass of wine.

"Charlie just marched some woman in here, said 'Hey Dad, I think I'll be having sex tonight instead of dinner', and off they went up the stairs?"

Alan glared over the rim of the glass as he lowered it to the table. "Don, there's no reason to be rude. And he didn't do that. I just got home an hour ago myself, and they were already up there."

"So you haven't seen her."

"No."

"Then…have you heard her?"

Alan reddened. "His door is locked. He talked to me, but he wouldn't let me in."

Don had to admit that was a little strange. But still… "Is that all?"

"Dessert is missing."

Don was glad he hadn't started eating again, because he probably would have choked. "What?"

"I got a nice cherry pie at the bakery, today. I don't care to know what they did with it."

Don considered the possibilities and made a decision. "I will never eat cherry pie again."

"Then you'll be happy to hear that they left the ice cream alone."

Don picked up his fork again. The spaghetti had fallen off, so he began to twirl some more onto the tines. "Unbelieveable," he said to the plate.

Alan finished chewing. "I'll admit, at first I was surprised. But this is his house. He's 31 years old."

Don gave up and slurped a strand, wiped his mouth. "It's not that. He brought her here. He knows you live here, too."

Alan frowned. "I'm also an adult. I can be 'cool'. Or whatever people are now."

Don shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean either. He had to know there was a chance the two of you would…meet. He must be ready to defend their relationship." Alan looked interested, so he continued, lowering his voice dramatically. "He must be in love."

Alan brightened considerably.

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"So you're ready for this, right?"

Anna smiled up at Charlie. "It is why I came over, this afternoon." Her smile took on a hint of debauchery. "Well. One of the reasons, anyway."

Charlie grinned. "Just don't let my Dad freak you out. He'll be talking about grandchildren within five minutes."

He grabbed Anna's hand with one of his own and used the other to push open the swinging door into the kitchen. Don and Alan both looked up and stared, like deer caught in the headlights. Charlie concentrated on his father. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Anna, this is my father, Alan, and my brother, Don. And this is…"

"Oh my God." Charlie heard Anna's intake of breath, felt her hand slip out of his. He turned to look at her, and was startled at how pale she had become.

"Sweetie?"

"Oh, my God," she said again, and seemed to grow even paler. Charlie followed the track of her eyes, which were glued on…Don? Confused and worried, he saw that Don was almost as white as Anna. He saw his brother stand slowly and open his mouth to speak.

"This is my ex-wife," said Don quietly. "This is Anna Martin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Charlie! Catch her!"

The sound of Alan's voice broke through Charlie's frozen mind, and he automatically reached for Anna, who was swaying and on the way down. He lowered them both carefully to the floor of the kitchen. He looked at her and brushed the hair from her face. "Anna? Baby?"

Alan was up and routing through the cupboard under the sink, and came out with a first aid kit. He hurried to join them on the floor. "She's fainted," he said, and opened the kit, removed smelling salts. He waved them under Anna's nose, and soon she coughed, made a face and began pushing against the offending smell. Her eyes opened and locked with Alan's. He lowered his hand. "Are you all right, dear?"

She struggled to sit up, but Charlie couldn't seem to let go of her. "I'm fine," she whispered, and stopped struggling for a moment. She wanted to stay where she was, safe in his arms. Forever. She would gladly lie on this kitchen floor forever.

"Charlie, son. I think Anna wants to sit up." Alan spoke gently. Charlie didn't say anything, but she could feel his tight grip loosen. She placed a hand on his leg and pushed up. Once in a sitting position, she offered Alan the ghost of a smile, and then swiveled to look at Charlie. He was staring at her as if his entire world had just blown up, and it broke her heart. She lifted a hand to his face. "I'm so sorry…" She couldn't seem to speak above a whisper.

Alan used the kitchen counter to pull himself off his knees, which creaked as he stood. He stepped to the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed a bottle of water. As he returned to the pair on the floor, he twisted the cap off. Reaching them, he leaned over and offered the bottle to Anna. "Here you are, dear. This should help."

She accepted the bottle gratefully and drank, tentatively at first, then deeply. She sighed, and her hand trembled a little as she handed the bottle back.

Alan set it on the counter. "Do you think you can get up?"

She nodded silently. Alan offered his hand, then, and she took it as willingly as she had the water. She stood. "Thank-you," she managed in an almost-normal voice.

Alan looked at her until he was sure she was steady, then at Charlie, still on the floor, and then at Don, who was sitting back down again. "Let's all go in the living room," he suggested. Neither of his sons made a move, so he spoke louder, in the tone of voice he had always used while they were growing up, the one that brooked no argument. "Boys! Now!"

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They settled.

Alan in the recliner. Charlie on one end of the sofa, Don on the other. Alan had pulled a dining room chair in with them, and Anna had taken it before the rest of them picked their seats. They were silent — Alan checked his watch — for seven minutes.

"It was right after college," Don finally said. He looked only at his father. "You know I went directly to the Padres' farm team, didn't even stay for the graduation ceremony."

Alan nodded, but didn't say anything.

"L…We dated most of my senior year. Anna was a sophomore. We were kids. Impetuous. Convinced we couldn't be separated. When I joined the minors, she came with me, and we were married in the county courthouse the morning before my first practice."

Alan couldn't be silent any longer. "How could you not tell your mother and I…"

"You…You were out of the country," Don said. "Charlie graduated that spring too, from Princeton, and the three of you spent the summer in Spain. He had his fellowship at the University of Barcelona, you and mom were on a delayed celebration of your 25th…we…we didn't want to tell you over the phone. We were going to wait until you got back."

"We didn't tell my parents, either," Anna offered. "I was terrified of telling my parents, I begged Don to let us have a few months together first, before we told any of you…" she looked quickly at Don, then at the floor.

Don hadn't taken his gaze away from Alan. "Anyway." He took up the story again. "It didn't last long. A month. A few days less, actually. Anna was walking to the ball park one evening to watch me play in a game, and she was hit by a car. Drunk driver, going way too fast, didn't see a stop sign…she…she was very badly injured. Head injury. Unconscious for almost three weeks. I contacted her parents then, of course, and they came right away…"

Anna took over the narrative. "When I finally woke up, they were all there. My parents, and Don. I didn't know any of them. I had lost everything."

"Total amnesia." Don again. "It was…devastating, and after a few weeks with no improvement, the doctors said it could be permanent. Anna's parents…they convinced me…they said I couldn't care for her, and that she wouldn't want me to anyway. Make a long story short, they had the marriage annulled, and when Anna was released from the hospital she went directly into one of the best head injury rehab clinics in the country. I would call, sometimes…speak to her father. He said she had accepted them as her parents, and they were filling her in on her life — but that they intended to leave me out of it. 'She has enough to deal with', he said. Eventually, they either changed their number, or moved…I couldn't get in touch, anymore."

Alan thought his heart would break for his son. "Donnie, you had to know we would have come home. Your mother was an attorney, she could have helped you fight…"

Don finally looked away from Alan, to the floor. "We…I'm not saying this is your fault, Dad, it was mine…but we weren't very close, then. I…I was an idiot. I convinced myself that you wouldn't leave Charlie — he was only 16…" He looked suddenly at Anna. "You recognized me in the kitchen." It was almost an accusation. "When did the memories come back? Were you so angry at me that you came after my brother? 'Eppes' is not that common a name, you had to at least suspect!" He was almost yelling, at the end, and she visibly cringed.

"You were the trigger," she said quietly.

Don was concentrating on lowering his blood pressure, so Alan asked. "The trigger?"

She looked pleadingly at him, begging him silently to believe her. "All these years, all the rehab and doctors and therapists — they've all agreed on one thing. That someday, at any point in time, I might see something or hear something or smell something, and it would act as a trigger, release a flood of memories…" She looked at Don again. "I swear to God, Don, until I saw you at that kitchen table, I had no memory of you." She raised a hand to her head. "Now…Now I can't stop the memories. I just flashed on the Barbie I got for my 10th birthday…"

Don wanted to believe her. His problems had been with her parents. He had loved Anna…but if she had regained her memory earlier, she had to wonder how much he had loved her, to so easily let her go…she could well be bitter. What better way to punish him than to hurt Charlie this way?

She seemed to read his mind — something Don suddenly had a flash of memory about himself. She had done that a lot. "Don, when we were…together…you and Charlie weren't close. At all. If I were trying to hurt you, why would I do it through him? The way he talks about you…it's obvious the two of you have grown a lot closer since then — but how would I have known that?"

And that simply, the memories she had triggered in Don overwhelmed him. He didn't care that tears flowed freely down his cheeks. "Anna," he choked, and rose from the couch without really being aware of it. "Oh my God, Anna…" Then she was crying, too, and out of the chair, and the two of them took the few steps required to meet. Don wrapped her in strong arms, and she inhaled the scent of him, endured a new flood of memories, leaned into his chest and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Charlie sat on the end of the couch and listened to the incredible story.

He watched them both break into tears and go to each other, drawn as if by magnets.

He stood up shakily and glanced at his father, who was staring with eyes both horrified and fascinated at the tableau unfolding before him. Charlie quietly walked toward the front door, the closest visible means of escape. Once outside, he got halfway down the sidewalk before he doubled up over the roses and lost his lunch, his breakfast, last year's Thanksgiving dinner, maybe even a few toenails…it seemed to go on forever.

He felt a hand on his back.

"Son. Son."

There was nothing more to say…Charlie knew that…but he wanted for Alan to be able to fix this, somehow. He needed for Alan to be able to fix him, somehow.

Charlie straightened, slowly, and did not turn to face him.

He would not cry.

He would not feel.

He would not look at any of them.

He would not stay here.

He pulled away from Alan's touch, and continued down the sidewalk.

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Don found his father hosing down the driveway.

"Where's Charlie?"

"Took a walk. Shouldn't you be inside with Anna?"

"She's in the restroom. Pulling herself together."

Alan positioned the hose on the ground so that the roses would receive the water and pushed past Don to return to the faucet and turn off the flow. When he straightened, he almost couldn't turn fully around, Don was standing so close. He looked at his son with sadness, and Don looked back the same way.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. I never told you because I was ashamed."

"Of what?"

Don lifted a shoulder. "All of it. Of not telling you and Mom, back then. Of being so easily pushed out of the picture by Anna's parents. It's not a time of my life I'm proud of."

Alan sighed. "Donnie, I'm not your father only when you do good things that you can be proud of. I'm your father all the time."

Don nodded. "I know that. Now. But…I was pretty screwed up my senior year, Dad. When you and Mom told me that you'd taken the entire summer off, and were going to Spain with Charlie…that you weren't even going to make it for graduation…I-…I already had issues with Charlie, we both know that." He saw his father's face close and hurried on. "I'm not saying I was right to have them. I'm just saying that's how it was. Like I said, I'm not proud of it."

Alan nodded his head slowly and glanced at the front door of the house. "We shouldn't leave her in there alone too long." He looked back at Don and tried to smile. "Ready for round two?"

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She was taller than he was, so Larry couldn't exactly lean over Megan's shoulder to see what she was doing in the kitchen, so he just stood in the doorway and asked. "Making something?"

She turned and smiled. "I had a craving. Warm apple pie, cold vanilla ice cream. I'm making some for you, too."

He smiled. "Sounds delicious." He started to turn and walk back into the living room, but froze in a sudden panic. "My goodness. A craving?"

She laughed. "If you could see your face, Larry!" She opened the door of the microwave to place the pie inside. "Honestly, I should be offended, but it's too funny! Calm down. I'm a woman in her 30s who has lived alone for over 10 years and has a ridiculous job — I always eat according to my cravings. I know it's not healthy…I keep saying I'm going to get on a schedule…" She programmed the microwave and looked back at Larry, laughed again. "I swear to you, I am not pregnant."

He smiled tentatively. "It's not that the idea thoroughly appalls me, dear, I'm certain you would make a fine mother. If this is a topic you'd care to discuss…"

She almost laughed again. "Larry, I just wanted some apple pie and vanilla ice cream…". He still looked too serious, though, and she was glad when the doorbell interrupted them.

"Excuse me, dear." Larry headed for the door.

He opened it to find Charlie, head down, eyes on his welcome mat. "Charles! Please, come in…" Charlie said something Larry couldn't quite make out. "Forgive me. Could you repeat that?"

"Can't pay the cab," Charlie said a little louder, and then Larry noticed the taxi at the curb. He reached into his pocket for his wallet, withdrew a $20 bill.

"Will this be enough?"

Charlie just stood there, still looking at the cement in front of Larry's door. Larry saw the driver's door of the taxi open, and watched someone approach behind Charlie. A rather beefy-looking gentleman stepped into the glow of the porch light. "You paying for this guy?" Larry held up his hand and the driver reached around Charlie to snatch the money, mumbled something about deadbeats and headed back for his taxi. Larry waited until the vehicle squealed away from the curb, watching his friend closely.

"Charles, please come inside." He spoke quietly and reached out a hand to touch Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie jerked and raised his head, seemed surprised to see his colleague standing there.

"Larry?"

Larry smiled. "Yes, Charles. Come in."

Charlie took a tentative step. Larry continued to encourage him into the living room, feeling for a time as if he were dropping a bread crumb trail for Charlie to follow. He led Charlie to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. Tell me what's wrong."

Charlie suddenly fell onto the couch as if his legs had entered retirement. He uttered a great sigh and leaned heavily back into the cushions, closing his eyes. Larry stood warily over him. He heard approaching footsteps and turned his head to meet Megan's eyes, and shrugged.

She continued into the room and sat on the other end of the couch. "Hi, Charlie." She spoke gently, but in a normal tone of voice. "Larry and I were just going to have some dessert. How does warm apple pie and vanilla ice cream sound?"

His eyes popped open and he sat forward on the couch quickly. "I'm sorry. I should have called. I'm sorry." Charlie tried to stand up, but Larry was still standing and pressed a hand down onto his shoulder.

"Nonsense, Charles, you know you're always welcome here. It's actually French Vanilla ice cream, very rich and satisfying. You'll join us."

Charlie still struggled against him, and eventually prevailed. He looked briefly at Larry, then dropped his eyes again. "I- I'll leave. We can talk at work tomorrow." He tried to look back at Megan on the couch, but didn't quite make it. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Megan stood and took a step to join Larry, effectively blocking any further movement by Charlie. "Look at me, Charlie." Her voice was commanding, honed by years of work in interrogation. He reluctantly complied. At the depth of pain she saw in his eyes she almost cracked, but managed to keep her resolve. "If anybody is leaving, it's me."

He started to shake his head, but she kept going.

"I don't want to. If you don't want me to, then sit down, again." She completely lost all pretense of control when she saw one tear slide down Charlie's face. "Oh, God, Charlie…" She automatically reached to envelop him in her arms, wondering briefly at her own actions, but then she was even more surprised when Larry opened his arms as well, encircling them both. Neither one of them was usually this demonstrative, and it frightened her a little, but then she heard a sob, felt Charlie's shoulders heave, and he was leaning into them, crying.

She and Larry looked at each other over Charlie's bent head, and tightened their grip.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Anna clutched the bottle of water Alan had retrieved for her as if it were a life jacket and she were on the Titanic.

"I was an only child, so there were no brothers or sisters who might serve as triggers," she said, looking at Alan and not at Don. "My father and his partner bought struggling businesses, restructured them and sold off the pieces, so we never stayed in one place very long I didn't really get to know cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents…it was just the three of us." She paused to take a drink, lowered the bottle. "Anyway. After the…accident…I never remembered that part, my childhood. Until now. I only knew my parents as the people I met when I finally woke up. My father was retired by then. He was a great deal older than my mother. He died of a massive heart attack just five years after that. He left us very well provided for, so my mother was able to continue all the rehab and therapists." She paused again, this time for a deep breath. "I even went back to school — although I didn't know I was going back. I had no memory of those first two years…I earned my MLS — Master's in Library Sciences — and accepted a job in the UCLA library system. That's where I first met Charlie. He has privileges there, as visiting faculty. He usually does a few guest lectures a year… She trailed off, uncertain about whether she should be talking about Charlie. She nervously drank some more water, even though she didn't really want it.

"Where is your mother now?", asked Alan.

"About six years ago, we took a cruise, and she met someone on the ship. She remarried, a year after that, and moved to his home in Miami. She wanted me to come, but… Well, I hadn't really been on my own since the accident, and I figured it was time. And my mother is only in her mid-50s, now, I felt she deserved a second chance at happiness…" She frowned. "That was before I knew about what she had helped do, all the secrets…"

"You should talk to her," Alan offered. "Now that you are remembering things. She can help fill in the blanks."

"She could have helped all along, couldn't she?", retorted Anna quickly. Immediately she looked guiltily at Alan. "I'm sorry."

He smiled sadly. "Not at all. I can well imagine that you would have…tust issues, now. Perhaps one of the therapists you have seen over the years…"

She sighed. "They were all hired by her. I think I have trust issues with them, as well."

They sat in awkward silence for a while. Anna finally straightened in her chair. "That's a good idea, though. I can find someone new." She looked at Don. "Are you still playing baseball?" She answered her own question. "That was stupid. Charlie told me. You're an FBI agent."

"Yeah. I played in the minors a couple of years. I knew I would never make it out, so I started to think about things I'd like to do, careers I believed I would be good at…I was lucky. I hit it out of the park on the first try."

Anna looked at Alan again. "I'm sorry." She stood. "This has all been…overwhelming. I need some time to process this. If you could just call me a cab…"

Alan also stood. "Nonsense, Anna. " He reddened slightly. "I mean calling a cab, not taking some time, of course you need some time…are you all right to go home? Do you live alone?"

She nodded. "Yes. But that's good, that's ok. Alone is what I need, right now. I'll be fine, really."

Alan looked at Don, then back to Anna. "Please, I'd be glad to give you a ride."

A look akin to panic passed over Anna's face. "Dear God. What kind of person am I?"

Alan took a step closer. "What is it, dear?"

She looked around the room. "Where's Charlie? Is he all right? How could I have just noticed…"

Alan soothed her. "Hush, now, it's amazing you can think at all, what you've been through. I have some ideas…after I take you home, I know some places where I can look for him." He turned away slightly and made a show out of picking his keys up off the coffee table. "Charlie will be fine." He didn't want either of them to see his face when he said that. He wasn't sure that he believed it.

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"He wouldn't tell us what was wrong," Larry said, as he led Alan to the same seat on the couch Charlie had only recently vacated, "but he is obviously quite distressed."

Megan stood and greeted Alan with a quick hug. She drew back and looked at him apologetically. "He asked us not to call you. Or Don. When I asked him about calling Don, he almost bolted again."

Alan nodded wearily and sank into the couch. "You kept him from leaving?"

"Yes," acknowledged Larry. "It was difficult, at first. Then he just…rather deflated…we talked him into using the guest room. Within five minutes he was stumbling about as though he was either drunken, or exhausted…we barely got his shoes off and the sheets of the bed pulled down."

Alan rubbed his hand over his face. "How long has he been here?"

Megan checked her watch. "About an hour. He's been asleep for the last 20 minutes — I just checked, again."

"Alan, did he and Don have an argument?"

Alan smiled at Larry. "I wish they had. That would be easy. Compared to this." He saw the question and concern in their faces. "I'm sorry. I don't think it's my place to tell you. That may not seem fair…"

"We understand," Megan assured him. She felt sorry for Alan, sitting so sad and heartbroken on Larry's couch. She reached out and touched his arm. "Are you all right? Is there something we can do?"

Alan stood, shook his head. "It's a comfort, to know where he is, that he's safe, with friends. I should get back to Don. Can I…Can I see him, first?"

"Of course." Larry led Alan down the hall to the guest room.

Alan opened the door quietly, took a few steps and stood over the bed. He reached out as if to touch Charlie, but pulled his hand back. After a few moments, he came back out into the hallway and closed the door. "Please call me, if…" He thought. If what? If Charlie woke up screaming? If Charlie woke up heartbroken? If Charlie didn't wake up at all? "He changed his tack. "Tell him…" Again he was stumped. Tell him this kind of thing happens all the time, and he'll get over it. Tell him to buck up. Tell him I'll stop bugging him about grandchildren. Well, if the last few hours had contained any lesson at all, it had to be the necessity for honesty. "Tell him I'm worried. And I love him."

Larry nodded, and he and Megan walked Alan to the front door, ensured that he was safely in his car and waited until his taillights were out of sight before they closed the it again. Then they headed back for the living room.

"Dessert!", Megan suddenly moaned, and they veered off for the kitchen. They stood in the doorway, arms around each other, and looked at the pool of melted vanilla ice cream on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Alan found Don exactly where he had left him, on the couch. That was disturbing. Don was apparently stunned motionless. Alan dropped his keys on the coffee table and sat in the recliner again.

Don looked at him. "Did you find Charlie? I was hoping you would bring him home. I should talk to him."

Alan raised a hand and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "What do you intend to say?" Don didn't answer. Alan went on. "I don't think this is the kind of situation that calls for 'winging it'."

Don looked chastised. "This was just…this was just a mistake, something I thought about when I got drunk, or couldn't sleep. I never thought it could somehow come back and do more damage. I never wanted to hurt either of you."

Alan sighed. "This would have destroyed your mother. She felt such guilt during those years, when she was in New Jersey with Charlie. If she found out you chose to go through something like this alone…" He saw the expression on Don's face and stopped. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. That's not fair. It was a long time ago, and as you said, you were young. We need to remember the man you have become. I'm just so sorry, Don, so sorry that you ever felt so separated from us." The two sat in silence for a while until Alan sighed again. "We never intend to make the mistakes we do, any of us."

"Dad…you were good parents, it was me…"

"No, Don, don't take on that as well. We did the best we could. Obviously we could have done better. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20. The past…we can't change that. What matters now is today, and tomorrow."

Don shifted on the couch. "So…did you find him?"

Alan nodded. "He's with Larry."

"Did…would he talk?"

"I didn't get to say anything to him. He was asleep in the guest room by the time I got there. Apparently he was quite upset, but he never told them why."

"Them?"

"Oh." Alan paused. He hadn't thought about the fact that Megan and Don worked together. "You should probably know. Megan was there."

Don groaned and closed his eyes.

"But like I said, neither of them even knows why Charlie showed up so upset…I didn't tell them, either. It didn't seem like it was my place…"

Don opened his eyes again. "I just wish…you could have spoken with him. So we'd know. If he's all-right."

Alan arched an eyebrow. "We know all we need to, Donnie. We know that he's safe. He's with family. And even if I didn't hear it from him, I can guarantee you — he is not all right."

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The student was plainly terrified, lost in a wilderness he had never thought even existed, much less one he would find himself in some day. "Dr.…Dr. Eppes…" His voice had changed years ago, but the student heard it squeaking as if he were 14 again. "Th- Th- That equation is wrong." He actually heard a pencil drop somewhere. "I think?"

Charlie paused, Dry Erase marker hovering over the white board. He turned toward the class. "What?"

The student felt everyone looking at him. "Maybe I'm wrong. Can you explain the second equation to me?"

Charlie turned back to the board, looked at the second equation and slowly lowered the marker to the tray. He walked over to his desk and sat down, and stared at the board. This was the third time today a student had been forced to refocus his mind, but this was by far the most serious offense, the greatest indication of his despair. He could have done that equation correctly at 10 years old.

"Dr. Eppes?" Another student, this time. "Are you all right?"

Charlie abruptly stood and began walking through the rows of students, toward the door. "Class dismissed," he mumbled somewhere near the last row.

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When Colby knocked on the door, it swung open, and blood stains were visible from the porch.

He and Don immediately pulled their weapons. They were just here to interview a witness — but apparently someone else had beaten them to it. He looked to his team leader, who indicated that he should go right.

They entered the house back-to-back, in a crouch, and cleared the living room. Then they began a circle of the house, moving toward the center from opposite directions. Don headed down a hallway, and Colby quickly cleared a den, then entered the kitchen. The witness was on the floor here, obviously dead, although he made sure by checking for a pulse. She was under the wall-mounted telephone, and there were more blood stains on the wall. It looked as if she had tried to reach the telephone at some point.

Colby stood and reached into his own pocket for his cell phone. He hit the button that connected him immediately with dispatch and requested back-up and a CSI team. Then he left the kitchen and cleared a utility room and bathroom, and finally met Don in the living room again. "Bedrooms are clear," Don said.

"I've got a DB in the kitchen," answered Colby. "I already called in the troops."

Don headed past him toward the kitchen to see what he could before CSI arrived. Colby started to follow, but spotted what looked like a shell casing in one of the corners of the living room, and went to check it out. He was bent over, in the process of hooking it with his pencil, when he heard a round chamber behind him.

"Tell your guy he missed me," Colby heard, and he automatically threw himself flat to the floor and to the side, tried to become a moving and unpredictable target. He heard the sound of Don's service weapon and felt a rush of air, rolled in time to see his assailant hit the floor, a gun flying out of his hand. Colby scrambled to his feet and kicked the gun away from the perp, who was groaning and screaming as if going through a meat grinder. From what Colby could tell upon closer inspection, though, he only had a flesh wound to his upper arm. The perp screamed louder and swore as Colby secured his arms behind his back. Breathing heavily, Colby straightened to see Don, still at the entry of the utility room into the hallway, still training his weapon on the perp, but not even looking at him. He was looking instead across the living room, where Colby's head had just been, and the fresh bullet hole in the wall there.

Colby straddled his perp. "It's okay, Don, he's secure."

Don dragged his eyes away from the wall and looked at Colby, horrified. He slowly lowered his service weapon. "My God. Colby. I don't know how I missed him…"

Colby shrugged. "No harm, no foul Don. We got him now."

Don holstered his weapon. Megan had been sneaking him looks of concern all day, and he had snapped at David for no reason. That's why he had brought Colby with him to interview the witness. He had thought some time out of the office might clear his head. Instead, he had made a rookie mistake at an active crime scene that almost cost his partner his life.

He heard the screech of tires and watched Megan and David approach the house. He walked to the door to meet them. David arrived first, saw Colby standing over his obviously still-alive suspect. "What happened here?"

Don just pushed through the door, shrugging out of his shoulder holster. He thrust it at a surprised Megan. "I almost got Colby killed," he ground out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

She picked up on the third ring. "Yes?"

"Mom."

The businesslike tone was dropped, replaced with warmth. "Anna, sweetheart. How are you?"

"Mama, when I was 10, and you got me that Barbie for my birthday…I already had three, Mom, I asked for a 'Ken' to go with them. Why didn't you get me a 'Ken'?"

There was an intake of breath. "Oh, dear God. Sweet Lord. Anna, baby, have you started to remember?"

"I…I ran into Don. Don Eppes."

Her mother was silent for so long Anna felt she should say something else. "You remember Don."

"Anna…" Was her mother crying? "Your father thought it was best…"

"What about you, Mama? Daddy died 10 years ago. You must have thought it was best, too."

"You don't know how many times I almost told you, in the beginning. And then, the longer it went on — I just didn't know — Please, Anna. Let me come and see you."

Anna closed her eyes. "You know, Mom…I just don't think that would be best, right now."

"Anna, please, darling. I want to help."

She didn't scream, or slam down the phone, or swear.

She simply hung up.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Dr. Fleinhardt?"

Larry looked up from his desk and smiled. "Karen! How are you? I've missed having you in my classes this semester."

The student returned his smile, although her eyes were drawn slightly together in worry. "Well, you know how it is. Requirements. Only so much time in a day."

"Yes, I well remember." He saw her distress. "Is there something I can do for you, Karen?"

She took a step into the room. "It's Dr. Eppes. I know you're close."

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

She shrugged a little. "It's just that I have a class with him this semester, Math 418. I should be there now, it has almost half-an-hour to go…"

"Yes?"

"He just got up and left everything. His books, papers. Walked out and dismissed class 30 minutes early. Weird enough, Dr. Fleinhardt, but before that…before that, he made a mistake. In the math."

Larry felt his mouth drop open, quickly clamped it shut. "Do you know where he went?"

"I left the building with all the other students, and I saw him walking toward the south end of campus. I was worried. I thought I should tell someone…so I came back. I'm sorry if it's none of my business…"

Larry stood. The south end of campus. Toward the park. "Not at all, Karen. I appreciate your concern. I'll look into this right away."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He gave his statement. Repeatedly.

To Megan, and David.

To LAPD officers who arrived at the scene.

To Merrick.

Every time he told it, he made sure to accept full responsibility. He offered his badge to Merrick. He had almost gotten Colby killed. He didn't deserve to be in the field.

Merrick had just stared at him sadly. "This is why we provide PTO, Don. When an Agent's mind isn't 100 percent focused on his job, he's not doing anyone any favors if he insists on working anyway."

Don sat silently and waited for Merrick to place him on leave, or demote him, or accept his badge.

"You're a valuable Bureau asset. An experienced Agent — who made a mistake. Take some time, Agent Eppes. Deal with whatever put you here in the first place, and find a way to come to terms with your own fallibility. I've checked the records. You have almost a month of accumulated sick days, PTO, vacation. If you need longer than that, come see me and we'll discuss a leave of absence. Your team will be waiting for you when you get back."

Don wanted to take the elevator directly to the parking garage and not look back, but he owed his team more than that. Especially Colby. So he got off at the bullpen, where they were all working on the reports required after the morning's incident. He went directly to Colby's desk and stood in front of it. "Colby, I apologize. It's not enough, I know…"

Granger waved a hand. "It happens, Don. We got lucky — had a good ending." He looked down at the papers on his desk. He grinned. "You can make it up to me if you finish these reports!"

Don didn't even attempt to smile. He looked toward Megan and David, indicated with a movement of his head that they should join him. Once they had arrived, he kept it brief. "I'm sorry, guys. I hate to do this to you — but I'd hate it worse if I got anybody hurt. I'm having…Charlie and I are having…some…family issues. I need to take some time."

"Absolutely." David's voice was firm. "Whatever you need. We understand."

Colby stood behind his desk, all humor gone from his attitude. "Seriously, Don, if you need anything…"

Don shook his head. "Thanks, guys. I think this is something we have to handle on our own."

Megan suddenly spoke. "Maybe not," she said. "I don't know what's going on, Don…but maybe you should try to handle it together."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alan sat at the kitchen table, nursing his third cup of tea.

Until last night, he would have said that what he wanted most in the world was for one of his sons to get married, and give him a daughter-in-law, eventually some grandchildren.

Now he knew that was never really true.

What he wanted most in the world was for both of his sons to be happy; or at least pain-free.

The hard part — the hardest part — was that no one was in the wrong, here. And everyone was hurt. The relationship Don and Charlie had worked so hard these last few years to establish, it was at serious risk. And it was no-one's fault.

There were no sides to take. He could only wait…and hope. Hope that all the king's horses, and all the king's men, could find a way to put Don and Charlie together again.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The closer he got to Cal Sci, the more he knew that he couldn't do it.

He couldn't go see Charlie. His dad was right. This was not a situation that called for 'winging it', and try as he might, he didn't know what he should say.

A few blocks before the south end of campus, at the park, Don pulled the SUV off the road. He lowered his head to the wheel for a moment, then opened the door. He might as well walk in the park, for a while.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was a small duck pond in the park, near the upper end, and Charlie had often gravitated there, ever since his student days. Except during the height of the summer picnic season, it was often the most secluded place in the park, and peaceful. When Charlie's mother had been ill, his friend had spent hours here, watching and plotting the patterns the ducks made in their movements.

It was the first place Larry checked, now, but at the entrance to the pond he stopped, dumbfounded. He was relieved to see Charlie there, on a bench facing the water. Ducks milled about his feet. Charlie must have gotten a handful of food from the dispenser. It was what Larry saw beyond Charlie that surprised him. Not 30 feet away, on a bench that faced in the other direction, away from the water and towards the wooded area of the park, sat Don. They must have come from opposite directions, not seen each other…

Larry went a little closer. Each man was deep in thought. It didn't look like either would notice a herd of pink elephants. He hovered, unsure as to what to do next. The two of them…each looked as if he could use a brother; but he didn'tt know, maybe it was brotherhood than had driven them here.

He searched the path at his feet, and finally found what he was looking for. He leaned over and picked up a fairly large rock. It fit nicely in the palm of his hand. He carried it with him as he walked around the opposite side of the pond, away from the Eppes. When he reached the northernmost bench, he sat down and hefted the rock. He sincerely hoped he lacked the strength to do any real damage. He arced the rock into a lob that finally fell near the center of the pond, into the middle of a flock of ducks. He was relieved to see that he didn't actually hit any, but the incoming missile and its splash had its desired effect. The ducks shot out in every direction, squawking and quacking loudly in protest. At the furor, Charlie looked up at the pond, and Don turned around to see what the ruckus was about.

What he saw instead was Charlie.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Don froze.

He'd know the back of that curly head anywhere.

When the ducks quieted down, the head dropped again. Charlie seemed fascinated with his own feet.

For almost 24 hours, Don had operated in a state of semi-shock. He had never expected to see Anna again. Several years ago, he had even thrown away every photograph of the two of them he still had. This was seriously shit, her appearing now. But it wasn't just that. He saw the droop of his brother's shoulders and wanted to protect him from whatever was hurting him. Two different issues. Same issue. Don was too confused to separate it all out, but he knew one thing, sitting on the park bench and staring at Charlie's back.

He couldn't leave him alone, in this.

He stood and walked slowly to the bench where Charlie sat. He stood for a while at one end, then cautiously sat down. "Charlie."

Charlie raised his head and turned to look at him. He looked out at the pond without speaking.

"I'm…" No. 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it. "Are you…" No. 'Are you all right' was ridiculous. Don grasped at the only other thing he could think of. "Hit me."

Charlie looked back at him. There was a question in his eyes, but he seemed too tired to speak.

'If you hit me, you might feel better. Go ahead. Take your best shot."

Eyes back to the water. "No."

"I don't know how to fix this." Don's voice was plaintive.

"Can't."

"Do you hate me?"

"Not your fault."

"Can you talk to me? More than a few syllables at a time?"

"No."

"We have to, Charlie. Not talking is a big contributing factor here — _my_ not talking, but still. Shows what a mistake it can be, in the long run."

"Hurts."

Don winced. Charlie would have to pick that syllable. Before he could respond, Charlie picked another one.

"Shouldn't."

"Why not, Charlie? I'd say this situation pretty much sucks, all the way around."

Charlie nodded a little. "Hurts for everybody."

Don sighed. "Come on, Charlie, Please. One complete sentence."

Charlie looked at him again and shifted on the bench. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a small jewelry box, which he offered to Don. "Visual aid," he said, and let his eyes stay on Don's.

Don looked down, saw the box, and didn't want to take it. When he finally did, he didn't want to open it. His hands and fingers operated against his will. It was like driving past the scene of a bad car accident. He had to look.

The ring looked like it cost more than three months' salary. Even Charlie's salary.

Don swallowed. He watched the diamond glint in the sunlight. "Damn, Charlie. I didn't know it had gone this far…"

Charlie stood and turned around, so that he was facing the trees, as Don had been when he first sat down. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Complete sentences."

He took another breath.

"Anna and I have known each other for two years. I met her in the Sciences Library at UCLA one afternoon after I did a lecture there. I was looking for a book I couldn't find at Cal Sci. We probably only saw each other two or three times after that, always in a library on campus, over the next…16 months. About eight months ago, again in the library, I asked her to join me for lunch. It was a Tuesday. I was doing my standard 'Everyday Applications of Mathematics in The Real World' presentation at 2, and I went early…I told myself to look for another book. Anyway. We had our first 'real' date that weekend. Chamber music. The first few months, we took things slowly…but I'd say we've been together as much as we can schedule for the last four months."

Charlie walked to the end of the bench, pivoted, and walked back. "I didn't say anything to Dad, because — well, you know."

Don nodded. He knew. One of his sons admitted going out on a date, and Alan wanted to book a hall for the reception. Charlie was quiet for a while and Don thought over the last few months. He realized he hadn't seen as much of his brother — especially in the evenings. Many times it had been just him and Dad, when Don dropped by the house for dinner, or a game. They had both assumed Charlie was still on campus — and he had never challenged that assumption, on the occasions when he finally came home while Don was still there.

"You didn't tell me, either." He wasn't even sure why he said that. He sounded like a petulant child.

Charlie sat on the bench, again. "I just wanted it to be us, for a while. Then I wanted to be sure. I didn't think I could deal with pressure from Dad, or teasing from you…I talked to Dad on the phone early yesterday afternoon, and he mentioned that you were coming to dinner. I was actually in the jewelry store while we were talking, and I knew that if I was looking at rings, it was time to tell you both; introduce you. Hence…" His voice trailed off.

Don handed the ring back to Charlie, and had an unwelcome thought. "Were…were you going to ask her in front of us? Last night?"

Charlie actually smiled. "Are you kidding? I'm not that clueless. Asking should be private…special. We're booked on a hot air balloon ride Saturday. I was going to ask while we drifted over wine country…just in case she said no. Then I could jump out of the basket and get a drink at pretty much the same time."

Don's short laugh surprised him. He couldn't believe Charlie had made him laugh in the middle of all this. They sat in silence for a while.

Finally Charlie asked a question. "Do you want her back? Complete sentences."

Don looked at him quickly, and just as quickly looked away. "I'm not going to lie to you, Chuck. This has really thrown me — taken me back to things I thought were long dead and buried. But it's been 16 years. Six. Teen. Years. The man I am today bears little resemblance to the boy who thought he was a man back then. All the things I've gone through during that time…the women I have loved, the career I have chosen, Mom's illness and death…that's all part of me, now. Anna has lived the last 16 years, as well; she is probably as unrecognizable to me as I would be to her."

Charlie sighed and closed his eyes. He heard a wistfulness and longing in his brother's voice, even if Don couldn't admit it. "But you need to find out," he said quietly. "You both need to finish your unfinished business…or…or not."

Don didn't answer. He couldn't. He didn't know what to say.

"You loved her very much." Charlie sounded resigned, almost despondent, and Don felt the knife twist.

"Charlie…I screwed up so much, back then. I thought family was disposable, and that had consequences. We both paid for that. I am so lucky to get another chance, with you. I don't want to screw that up too."

Charlie suddenly shivered beside him, crossed his arms and looked back at his fascinating feet. His voice when he spoke again was a whisper. "Yeah," he said sadly. "There's a lot to be said for second chances."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Thank you for seeing me today. I almost didn't call. I wasn't sure I could trust you. I was going to start over with someone else."

Dr. Schwartz looked surprised. "Anna. I've been your therapist for years, since you moved to L.A. You haven't trusted me all this time?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. I did. I have. But my mother is the one who first recommended you, and I've recently learned that I can't trust her. I thought maybe you had some kind of deal with her."

He picked a pencil up off the desk and absently twirled it. "Why did you decide to risk it?"

"I actually checked you out with the AMA and the BBB. There have been no complaints against you. My boyfriend taught me that there are patterns to everything. I haven't been able to detect a pattern in your behavior that would suggest a willingness to compromise your position as a doctor." She smiled impishly. "Besides. Who else would see me on such short notice?"

Dr. Schwartz smiled tolerantly. "How is your boyfriend? 'Charlie', isn't it?"

Anna leaned forward a little in her chair. "Let's cut to the chase. Only got a 50-minute hour, here. I found the trigger. I started remembering everything, about who I used to be."

The doctor's smile became broader. "Anna! That's wonderful news! What was your trigger?"

"My boyfriend's brother…Don. Charlie wanted me to meet his father and brother last night. Didn't go too well. Turns out I used to be married to Don."

The pencil snapped in half, but the doctor's face maintained its composure.

He cleared his throat.

"Um…well." He picked up the telephone on his desk and pushed two numbers on the keypad. "Sandra?" He spoke into the receiver. "Please reschedule my 3 o'clock." Still on the phone, he looked at Anna. "Actually, reschedule the rest of the afternoon." He hung up and selected a new pencil from his dispenser. "Please." He smiled pleasantly at Anna. "Take your time. Something tells me you'd better start at the beginning of this story."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alan wasn't sure what he had expected the afternoon to bring — especially after what last night had brought — but it sure wasn't both of his sons, walking in the front door. He paused, feather duster in his hand hovering over the television. "What are you two doing?"

Don, the first one in the room, looked at him and smiled. Alan was wearing an apron, holding a feather duster. "A better question would be what are you doing, Dad."

Charlie peered around Don's shoulder. "Dad. Tomorrow is the day for the housekeeper. Or did another one quit because you follow her around and tell her she's doing it all wrong?"

Alan glared. "No, she didn't quit. I was just trying to keep myself busy. And that only happened once. You speak as if I torture cleaning ladies on a regular basis."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Once."

Alan looked at him. "Twice. Tops."

Don laughed and moved to the couch, and Charlie headed for the stairs. He got halfway up before he stopped, paused, and then came back down. He wandered back into the living room. Alan had stopped dusting and was sitting in the recliner. "I don't…" Charlie never finished his sentence, but instead sat on the other end of the couch. As soon as he sat down, the configuration reminded them all of the night before, and he quickly stood again. "I'm…I need to leave." He began to search the coffee table for his keys. Before Alan or Don could protest, Charlie's cell sounded and he straightened abruptly, began walking toward the kitchen as he retrieved the phone from his pocket.

"Anna. I tried to phone earlier, before class…how are you? I'm so sorry for the way I acted last night." Don and Alan tried to let Charlie have his privacy, but they were still watching his retreating back when he stopped walking around the dining room table. "What? Let me come over and see you, Anna. I want to see you. I need…" Charlie raised the hand not holding the cell phone and ran it through his hair, then left it on top of his head. "Please, Anna. I know I behaved badly. I shouldn't have left…yes, yes, all-right. I'm listening." He was silent for awhile. The hand on his head dropped and he shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. "I see." He slowly turned and looked at Don on the couch. "I can tell him. He's here right now." He turned again, continued toward the kitchen. "Anna, are you sure…"

That was the last Alan and Don heard of the conversation. They looked at each other in uncomfortable silence. Soon, the sound of cupboard doors and drawers being opened and shut with considerable force floated out of the kitchen, and Alan half-stood. Before he could get completely upright, though, the door swung back open and Charlie came back as far as the dining room. Alan sat back down.

"The doctor Anna has been seeing thinks she shouldn't see either of us for a few days." He looked at Don again. "She asked if the three of us could meet here next Friday evening. A week from tomorrow. 6 o' clock. I explained that you could get a case…"

Don cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm not working for a while." He felt Alan turn his attention from Charlie to him, but he didn't look at him. "Got some time saved up. I think…I think I may try to get away for a few days. To think. I can be back by then."

Charlie blinked at him, then nodded. "So we're alone, in this. Three points in an unwilling triangle waiting for some cosmic tangential plane to connect us again."

Don stood. "Charlie…"

Charlie held up a hand, and Don saw his car keys dangling. "No. She won't see me. You're going to leave me. I have a couple of PhD.s, Don, I can do the math. Three minus two equals one."

Don started to walk toward Charlie. He didn't want to undo the fragile peace they had established at the duck pond. "I can stay. I don't have to go."

Charlie backed up a few steps until he connected with the kitchen door, so Don stopped moving. Charlie shook his head. "No. No. My mistake. I'm sorry. Of course you both need some time."

Alan's voice was gentle. "You need some time too, Charlie. Maybe you can take a few days…"

Charlie shook his head again. "I'll be all right. I'm all right." He looked at his hand and seemed to see the keys for the first time. "I found them," he said, in a voice that spoke only of what he'd lost.

Don started to move again, slowly, as if approaching a frightened and wounded animal. "Charlie, Buddy…"

Charlie suddenly smiled disarmingly, and Don smiled back and stopped moving again, even though he didn't know why.

"You should go," Charlie said, and started nodding his head. "You need this. You'll be careful? Take care of yourself?"

Don nodded slowly, a little confused at Charlie's rapid mood changes.

His brother tilted his head, solemn. "Good." He looked at his keys again. "I think I'll go for a drive."

Alan started to protest. "Son, maybe you shouldn't…" But Charlie, already backed against the swinging door into the kitchen, was through it already, on the way to the back door to the driveway. He didn't hear the rest of Alan's concern.

Charlie was already too far away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Don sat at the end of the dock and dangled his bare feet in the water. He was at Art's fishing cabin, about three hours out of Los Angeles. He hadn't wanted his Dad to ask Art if he could borrow it at first, but he had to admit the seclusion was nice. There were other cabins dotted along the shore, so there was some activity on the lake. Occasionally, a boat would pass closely enough to the dock to send waves lapping around his ankles, or ripples tickling at his toes. For the most part, it was silent, save for the sounds of nature.

Don leaned back on his hands, and tilted his face to the sun. He closed his eyes…

_**Don's Memory**_

_He admired himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door._

_The uniform was clean, cool, crisp, and he stretched the team logo proudly over his chest._

_This was the life. He was young, in love, and playing ball for a living. Could it get any better? So what if the genius and his parents were off in Spain for the entire summer? He had all he needed right here. A brand-new, ink-still-wet, college degree — for back-up, when he retired from baseball. An even newer, ink-even-wetter, marriage license. Anna was great. Good-looking, great bod, smart — and ready to give up her own career to follow him around the league. He'd make it up to her, once he got to the majors._

_He heard the front door open — in the tiny, four-room apartment, it was always only a few feet away — and opened the bedroom door in time to see Anna place a bag of groceries on the kitchenette counter. She had slammed the front door with her foot as she entered, so there must not be more groceries she needed help with. (Who was he kidding? Until he got bumped up to the majors, two bags of macaroni and cheese box dinners was not likely to happen.) She set her purse and keys down next to the groceries, looked up and smiled at him._

"_You got your uniform!"_

_He'd been part of the team now for almost two weeks, but he had joined them late in the season. His dad had talked him into finishing college first. By the time he had arrived, the uniform budget was gone, and it took the coaching staff a few days to convince the head honchos to pony up for one more. Then, it had to be ordered. So Don had continued to practice with the team in his old college uniform, and warmed the bench in street clothes during the games. This morning, it had finally arrived. He would be able to warm the bench in style, tonight — maybe even see some playing time!_

_Anna joined him in the bedroom and walked a circle appreciatively around him, looked him over. "I love a man in uniform. Especially a baseball uniform. I'm going to the library some day to look it up — I'm sure they were designed by a woman."_

_Don laughed. "Whaddya mean?"_

_She waved her arms at him as if she were one of Bob Barker's girls on "The Price Is Right". "Isn't it obvious? The accentuated butt, the tapered thighs, the paralyzing pecs…the pulverizing package!"_

_He blushed furiously. "Anna!"_

_She grinned. "I'm a married woman. I can peruse my husband's package if I want."_

_Don laughed and quickly used his toes to pull the shoe off each opposite foot. She saw the action and raised an eyebrow, took a step closer. "Why are you taking your cleats off?"_

_He grabbed her shoulders and moved her the 17 inches it took to get to the bed, then pushed her gently onto it backwards. "I didn't want to hurt you," he growled, and then he joined her._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlie sat on the old couch that had been relegated to the garage, and stared at the chalk board in front of him. So far he had not repeated last Thursday's embarrassing incident in Math 418, when he made the mistake in the equation…but he was still carefully double-checking himself, just the same.

He had gone to the garage to work on cognitive emergence. He hadn't been dedicating enough time to that in recent months. Plus, it was distracting. Then there was the added bonus of the possibility of falling asleep out here. He and Anna had only been together in his bedroom that one time, last week…but in his mind, the bed still smelled of her, and her laugh — and other noises — still echoed off the walls. It was difficult for him to sleep, in there. A couple of times he had really fallen asleep out here. The rest of the time, he would go to his room and sit quietly at the desk until he heard his father's door close. Then he would wait a few more minutes before stealing back down the stairs and curling up on the couch. He was always up before his father in the mornings, now — and that alone was probably enough of a clue for Alan to figure out the rest — but Charlie was doing the best he could.

Charlie leaned his head back against the couch cushions, sighed, and closed his eyes…

_**Charlie's Memory**_

_They had been dating a few months before he made three simultaneous, related discoveries._

_One was that he had long ago stopped doing many of the things he loved. He enjoyed the symphony, and attending plays by great writers like Chekov, Shaw, Shakespeare. He had been brought to tears, laughter, sadness and joy merely by sitting and experiencing dance, performed by gifted artists and athletes. A perfect evening could be had at a subtitled foreign film in a small arthouse theater; a rousing coffeehouse dissection of the film after it was over; and finding a decent jazz combo in an unknown venue around midnight, where people played not for profit but because the music consumed them; and others listened because they believed that to not listen, would be to diminish their very souls._

_Somewhere along the way, he had let these things go, and begun to concentrate instead on the less eclectic things he enjoyed. He had found it infinitely easier to find partners and friends who wanted to go hiking, or play golf, or attend a popular movie, or go to dinner…and he wasn't sure how, or when, it happened, but he had stopped all the other activities himself._

_When he and Anna had been dating a few months, and had pretty much covered the traditional date pastimes, the second and third discoveries he made were how much he had missed those things; and how incredible it was when you met someone who shared your interests._

_He and Amita had been unable to connect over anything except math. Anna could listen to him obsess about his work, and provide effective advice and feedback, but she could also argue that '**superfluous man'** was a recurring theme in Anton Chekov's plays, and recognize a Coleman Hawkins sax arrangement when she heard one._

_Anna was beautiful to the point of stunning, fun to be with and around, interesting…Charlie tried harder to pull himself out of his world and be interesting himself, when he was with her._

_Anna was perfect._

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The ocean breeze was significant, so Anna walked until she found a natural windbreak, of sorts. It probably wasn't really natural. Someone had come before her, and arranged the large pieces of driftwood this way, in an "L" shape, the connecting corner at such an angle that one could be protected from the worst of the wind, and yet continue to watch the waves. Still, she was grateful for it, and she spread one of the blankets she carried with her and then dropped to the sand. She scooted back into the "L" and wrapped the other blanket around her.

Because of her daily appointments with Dr. Schwartz, she was unable to travel very far from the city. These afternoons on the beach, just an hour away, had become as much a ritual — and as important to her mental and emotional health — as her meetings with the doctor.

She stared intently at the waves. Sunlight glistened harshly enough off the water to hurt her eyes, but she didn't want to put on her sunglasses and distort the view. Instead, Anna closed her eyes…

_**Anna's Memory**_

_The first time she had cooked dinner for Don had nearly been the last._

_She had noticed him her freshman year of college, found out he was on the baseball team and went to all the games that spring. Nothing came of it, much to her chagrin, until the next September, when they met accidentally outside the Music Building. She had been with her new roommate, Stacy, who knew Don well enough to stop and say 'Hi'. Stacy had introduced them, and before the chance meeting was over they had a date for that evening. Don was nothing if not a fast, efficient worker._

_By December, they were a campus item, but they both had their reasons for not wanting to let their families in on it. Before school dismissed for the month-long Christmas/New Year's break, Anna went to Don's off-campus apartment to make him dinner. His roommates, both also ball players, had already left for their homes, like most students; Don and Anna had decided to wait until the next day, so that they could have their Christmas celebration together in privacy first._

_She had considered all sorts of impressive entrees, but decided upon a simple tuna noodle casserole. For one thing, it was easy. She had made it several times in the past, and was fairly comfortable with its success rate. For another, her parents kept her on a pretty strict allowance while she was away at school, and the less she spent on dinner, the more she could eek out for Don's Christmas present._

_It was an unfortunate turn of events that the oven in Don's tiny apartment burned hot. By the time Anna checked on the casserole, almost 20 minutes before it was supposed to be finished, it was thoroughly burned and fused to the side of the glass dish, almost a full inch, all the way around. Anna had started to cry, but Don had insisted it was fine; he even claimed he preferred his noodles 'well-done'. He had eaten from the less-burned inner portion out, and had managed two generous helpings, complimenting her almost ceaselessly._

_It was then, even before they had gone into his bedroom and made love for the first time — it was then, in the kitchen, over burned tuna and noodles, that she had known she loved him._

_**Anna's Other Memory**_

_On their fifth date, it was Anna's turn to plan the evening. So far, they had each genuinely enjoyed whatever the other had come up with, so even though it was a little strange to have a picnic on the lawn of the main library at UCLA, and definitely cheap to then attend the fall concert put on by the school orchestra, she suggested it anyway. Charlie claimed to be delighted with those plans._

_Although she would never admit it to him, Anna had taken a half-day, and had spent the entire afternoon getting ready for this 'casual' encounter. She had traveled to a Greek deli she knew about on the other side of L.A., and she had paid them an embarrassing amount of money to design and pack the perfect picnic. She had even thrown in a bottle of Oozo as a joke. Charlie had gamely choked down a capful — literally. She was afraid for a moment that he would either pass out or throw up on the lawn beside the library. He had switched to wine after that, and she was glad she had spent the extra money and time finding a really good one, recommended by the lady at the deli; even though it took her four more stops to find someone who had a bottle. Then, she had gone to the salon and gotten her hair trimmed, even though it wasn't time for a cut, yet. She wanted it to be the perfect length. Back home, as she showered, she marveled at all the trouble she was going to. She couldn't remember putting this much effort into a date before._

_It had been worth it. Between the spanakopita and hummus, Charlie had explained the cognitive emergence theory, and thoroughly entertained her with a story about his father and brother, and the one time Charlie had talked them into attending a ballet with him, for his birthday. His father had been so embarrassed by the tights that he squeezed his eyes shut and refused to look whenever a male dancer took the stage, and his brother had not just fallen asleep, but had a very loud dream. While Charlie had managed to abate the snoring with a well-placed elbow once or twice, he had been completely unprepared for his brother's sudden jerk into awakening, complete with a shout of "Freeze! FBI! Hands against the wall, feet out, and spread 'em!"_

_It was later, at the concert, when she saw Charlie crying during the orchestra's moving rendition of "An American Ellegy" — it was then that she had known that she loved him._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When Don arrived at Charlie's house about fifteen minutes early Friday afternoon, there was a fully-inflated hot air balloon in the back yard.

Don was sitting in the SUV, staring at it, when Charlie came around the corner of the house. He climbed out of the vehicle and took the steps required to meet Charlie.

On the way, he tried to think fast.

No-one could pretend they just didn't see a thing that big, that out-of-place, that colorful. Better to just deal with it.

"Hot air balloons can fly at night?"

Charlie looked at him. "No. It's symbolic."

"Hell of a big symbol, Charlie."

Don had spoken with his father earlier, when he had returned from Art's cabin, and knew that he was planning to be out of the house from early afternoon until late evening, so he didn't ask where he was. He didn't ask any more about the balloon, either. Some things he could figure out for himself. He was a professional G-man, after all.

Other things, things like Charlie, they escaped him sometimes. He needed help understanding them.

He looked carefully at his brother. Charlie looked tired. Lines of fatigue ran into dark circles under his eyes. "How have you been?" He hoped he sounded like he really wanted to know — because he did.

Charlie shrugged. "All right. How was your trip?"

Don thought, settled for a one-word answer. "Enlightening."

Charlie looked at the ground and frowned. Don wondered what his mind was turning his one-word answer into, but before he could ask, they both heard the slowing of a car engine and Don turned to see a taxi pulling up to the curb. He saw Anna lean over the seat to pay the driver, and he walked out to open the door for her. He wasn't trying to lay early claim — it was what his father had trained him to do.

She climbed out of the car and as it pulled away stood on the sidewalk, wide eyes glued on the hot air balloon. Eventually she started moving, which is more than Don could say for Charlie. He was rooted to the driveway where Don had left him.

Later, Don would remember that it took 15 steps for the two of them to reach Charlie.

"A balloon?"

Charlie reached out and touched Anna's face in a gesture that Don found almost embarrassingly intimate. "I've missed you."

She reached up and held his wrist for a moment, and when she lowered it from her face they stood holding hands. "And I you."

Charlie took a breath. He had been staring at Anna, but now he looked almost nervously at Don, and then back to her. "The balloon is a statement."

She smiled. "Of what? That you think I'm full of hot air?"

Charlie didn't smile at the attempted joke. "That I won't be the one who backs quietly away. I wanted…something special to happen, on the ride we never got to take. And I want us to keep taking the ride we've been on, these last few months. I love you Anna. I love you, and I won't just step aside and let you walk away. Even if you're walking to my brother."

She let go of his hand as if I were on fire. "We can't stand in the driveway and do this."

Charlie showed no sign of moving.

Don tried the shock factor. Maybe that would get him moving. "Charlie — I never said I wanted Anna to walk back to me."

Well, it didn't really get him moving — but it sure got his attention. "Are you an idiot?"

Don hadn't quite expected that. "I beg your pardon?"

"How could you not want Anna back?"

Don crossed his arms in front of his chest and sighed. Fine. They were going to do this in the driveway. "Charlie, besides better knees, there's really nothing I want back from when I was 21. That guy, this guy — two different people. Anna was an incredible girl. I like to think that given the chance, we could have made it — even though statistics regarding marriage aren't all that optimistic. I'm sure Anna's a more incredible woman. If she weren't dating my brother, I might hit on her myself."

Charlie looked at him in silence for a while, trying to judge the truth of his words. He finally broke into a smile and looked back at Anna. "So, this is great, right? I mean, it will be weird, for a while — but what he said is true. None of us is who we were 16 years ago." He tried to grab her hand again, but she took a step back, and bumped into Don. She hadn't hurt him, so he didn't know why his chest suddenly constricted.

"Charlie…it's different, for me."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She held his eyes. Those bottomless brown eyes, eyes that she had drowned in on more than one occasion. "I mean that I didn't get to assimilate that girl slowly over the last 16 years. When she came back, it was all at once, and…and I feel like two people, now. One minute I think of you, and the last few months, and Anna the woman wants nothing less than an eternity of baklava with Charlie…and in the next instant, Anna the girl is remembering how sweet it feels to sit in the stands at the ball park and watch her husband play, and then get to go home with him after the game…"

Now Charlie backed up a step, so that the distance between him and Anna was even greater. "But…but…you heard Don. You must understand that even if you choose him, it can't be the same, be…because he's not the same…"

"Charlie." Her voice was quiet, soothing. "That's just it. The woman understands that. The girl doesn't, yet. She has to be integrated, and that will take some time. The finished product will be someone none of us knows. So I'm not choosing Don. And…" her voice broke for a moment, but she forced herself to steady it — "I'm not choosing you, either. I have to choose her, Charlie. The third woman. Can you understand that?"

Charlie shoved a hand in the pocket of his jeans and Don saw it clenching reflexively. "Let me help. I can help. Maybe. I don't know how, but we'll talk to your doctor, and I'll promise to act just as your friend until you're ready…"

This time she actually sobbed, but just once. "Charlie…" She was still standing against Don, and he felt her straighten. "Charlie." Her voice was steadier. "You know that won't work. Dr. Schwartz has actually recommended another doctor to help me with this, and he's located in — of all places — Miami. Dr. Schwartz feels that eventually, I'll welcome my mother's input in recovering the earliest years of my life, in helping me determine what's real and what's not. I've decided to go, Charlie. It should be easy enough to get another job, there…and this doctor can really help me. I've been reading about the work he's done with other amnesia victims, even with people suffering from MPD, who are learning to integrate their personalities."

Charlie was shaking his head. "You can come back. I'll wait. Or…or I can go, too. I can teach in Miami."

Anna stepped away from Don then and close to Charlie. She took his face between both her hands and leaned in to kiss him. It was a slow, real kiss, and Don saw Charlie melt into it like butter left out in the sun, his hands coming up to bury themselves in her hair.

Don felt a sharp disappointment. Not over Anna — he had been telling the truth. During his time at the lake he had come to accept that his time with her was over. In a way, he felt more at peace now than he had since the accident, because he had never let himself process it, before. He could even see now how that unfinished business had adversely affected his relationships with women ever since, how falling in love had started to carry a fear with it after the accident that always made him keep a certain distance, unable — or at least unwilling — to cross an imaginary line in the sand.

No, he wasn't disappointed over Anna.

He was disappointed because she was going to let Charlie go with her. He watched them kiss and felt…bereft…at how much he would miss him.

Anna broke the kiss off and stepped back a few inches, ran a hand through Charlie's hair. "My…my biggest two regrets," she said, so quietly that Don had to move toward them a little so that he could be sure he heard right, "are that I ever caused either one of you a second's pain…and that I will never get to know your father. To have raised two such incredible sons, he must be pretty outstanding himself."

There was the sound of a car slowing and pulling to the curb again, and Don turned to see the taxi again. He looked back at his brother and Anna, who was still backing off from Charlie. "I told him to come back in 15 minutes, because I knew how difficult it would be to do this. I had to give myself a deadline…Charlie, you can't come with me."

Don registered the shock on Charlie's face.

"But…"

She shook her head. This time when she spoke, her voice lost its gentleness and took on a hard edge. "This is not about you, Charlie. I can't do what I have to do if I'm worried about you all the time. You just have to accept that not everything revolves around you, and your needs. If you love me, you'll let me go."

Now Charlie looked as if he had been slapped, and even though Don suspected that she had said those things for shock value, and not because she really meant them, his disappointment became tinged with anger.

The taxi honked, and Anna turned toward the street. "I'm sorry," she said, and her heels clicked on the asphalt driveway as she passed Don. Automatically, he turned also and took a step to go open the door for her. "Don't," she said over her shoulder, and he stopped. At the taxi she looked back for a moment. "I will never be sorry that I loved either one of you." With that, she opened the door, climbed in the cab and pulled the door shut behind herself. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, and Don watched it disappear down the street for a while before he turned back to look at Charlie.

His brother was gone, and in the distance, the garage door was closing.

Don cut across the lawn and hesitated outside the door. He knew Charlie — he would want to be alone.

Then again, he knew Charlie, and he probably shouldn't be alone.

He quietly opened the door. Charlie, sitting on the couch, lifted tortured eyes to him but didn't say anything.

Don didn't say anything either, but he sat on the other end of the couch, and he settled back into the cushions as comfortably as he could.

He would stay with Charlie as long as it took.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 • _EPILOGUE_**

Charlie stood at the board in his office, Dry Erase marker flying across it.

The first few difficult days, then weeks, had passed. Time — as it is wont to do — marched on. After a few days he was joining his father again regularly for meals. Then, he began sleeping in his own room. Not just spending the night there — actually sleeping. Now, he was able to truly work again, really put his mind into the math.… He wasn't exactly enjoying any of it, but he realized that every step was significant, and he waited sadly and patiently for things to progress.

Larry stood in the doorway and studied his friend. Charlie had never shared whatever had brought him to his apartment in such despair a few weeks ago, and he knew from Megan that Don had not explained his sudden absence from work, either. Now both were back at their jobs. Megan said that Don seemed a little quiet, but peaceful, and his mind was back where it should be. Charlie's mind seemed fully present again as well, and Larry could see the efforts he was making to regain his life. Still, there was an underlying, lingering despondency that tore at Larry's own heart and happiness. He fingered the tickets in his hand.

"Charles."

Charlie didn't turn from the board. He recognized his friend's voice. "Hey, Larry."

"Charles, I have a dilemma."

Charlie smiled a little at the equation. "Elaborate."

"Megan and I had plans to attend a play this evening. We have the tickets already, but she just phoned. It seems that there is a crime scene requiring the team's attention."

Charlie nodded. "That tends to happen. FBI, and all that."

Larry came farther into the room and sat on the couch. "Quite. Anyway, as it was already almost 5 o'clock when she telephoned, she's quite certain that she will be unable to make curtain call. She suggested that I find someone else to accompany me, and I recalled your fondness for plays."

Charlie was noncommittal. "Mmm…"

Larry looked again at the tickets. "The play is 'The Seagull'. Are you familiar with it?"

Charlie stiffened and the Dry Erase marker hovered for a moment before he returned to his equation. "Yes, actually. I'm afraid that I am. Thank you, Larry, but I don't really like that play…"

"Oh, dear. You know that I don't really favor plays myself. If this isn't even one you would enjoy, perhaps I should give both tickets to someone else…I believe Dr. Trenton is still on campus…"

Charlie kept working. "If you'd like to go to dinner or something instead, Larry…"

Larry brightened. "Yes, I think I would, thank you. We haven't had an evening together in quite some time, you and I." He looked at the tickets one more time. "I'm sorry, I thought this playwright was one of your favorites. It's a Russian name, and I remembered your interest in a Russian playwright…forgive me, I just can't remember which one."

The Dry Erase marker paused again, and then Charlie continued his work. "Guess you're thinking of someone else," he said. "I'm not particularly fond of Chekhov."

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FINIS

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**A/N: "The Seagull" is an Anton Chekhov work (remember Charlie's memory, about how much he liked him?) exploring unrequited love. I recommend it for light summer reading.**

**Note to Silent Rumble: I tried to hurt Don, I honestly did**.


End file.
